


Savior

by windychimes



Category: Tales of the Abyss
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-12
Updated: 2011-10-12
Packaged: 2017-10-24 13:17:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/263908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windychimes/pseuds/windychimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is hard to hate the world when he has Mystearica.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Savior

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vangirl/gifts).



> For my dear friend Glorious.

The world is an ugly place.

Every night, Van writes this down.

The world is rotten.

He keeps a notebook of the things he must remember, of all the important things he must imprint into his mind.

The Score has polluted the planet.

He must never allow himself to forget, to grow complacent.

The Score must be destroyed.

It is not an easy task, but Van has filled notebook upon notebook of these words, of his plans and ideas for the new world.

I must save the world.

Some nights, he writes until his hand cramps. Until the ink in his pen runs dry.

I must destroy the world.

If he is to go soft, to forgive, for even a moment—

“Van?”

A child’s voice, soft and sweet and oh so tired. “Yes, Mystearica?”

She rubs her eyes, the rappig plushie he bought her held tightly to her chest.

Beautiful Mystearica.

“I can’t sleep. Will you tell me a story?”

The world is an ugly place.

“Of course I will.”

The world is rotten.

He takes her little hand, leading her back to her bedroom.

The Score has polluted the planet.

“What story would you like to hear?”

The Score must be destroyed.

“Tell me one about rappigs!”

I must save the world.

Van picks Mystearica up, placing her on the bed and tucking her in. “There once were three little rappigs…”

I must—

She falls asleep before the end of the story, rappig plushie still held tightly in her little arms. He reaches down to stroke her cheek, still soft and round and youthful.

He must never go soft, even for a moment.

Van leans down to kiss her forehead before leaving, checking on her one last time before he closes the door and heads off to bed himself. His notebook lays open on the table, ink uncapped and pages only half filled.

And he doesn’t care.

When he looks at Mystearica, the world is beautiful.


End file.
